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♡ A Kiss Left of You ♡

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Main Series ‧₊˚

ᰔ a kiss left of you

simon "ghost" riley x reader * warnings: f!reader, author attempts at accents, jealous!simon, doomed romance (maybe), drugs and alcohol consumption, simon is bad at feelings, angst, slowburn, bittersweet ending, ambiguous ending, hints at reader being autistic * wc: 3.7k

ᰔ can we stay awhile?

simon "ghost" riley x reader * warnings: f!reader, author attempts at accents, angst, doomed romance (maybe), simon is bad at feelings, slowburn, sad ending * wc: 2.2k

A Kiss Left of You ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley

summary: simon and you, introduced by mutual friends in the military, enjoy a heartfelt moment outside a bar. you engage in playful banter, and despite knowing you will soon part ways, you express genuine affection for each other. tags/trigger warnings: f!reader, sfw, reader is not from the uk, author attempts at accents, jealous!simon, doomed romance (maybe), drugs and alcohol consumption, soap makes an appearance, simon is bad at feelings, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, ambiguous ending, self-indulgent, hints at reader being autistic wc: 3.7k

a/n: this is a very old wip. i may or may not make this into a series. anyway, this is just a short collection of drabbles between simon and you. any constructive criticism is highly encouraged. enjoy!

pt. 1 ･ pt. 2 ･ pt.3

Breathing deeply, Simon admires the evening scenery as the last rays of the Sun disappear beyond the horizon. Hues of orange once highlighted it, but now it has turned into a deep shade of blue. Exhaling, a puff of smoke escapes his lips as he taps the lingering ashes along the railing. He stands just outside a dingy bar, its label, "Velvet Verve," gleaming brightly, casting Simon underneath its neon purple glow.

The cool night air chills Simon's lungs as he pulls deeply on his cigarette. His dark brown eyes follow the specks of snowfall as they dance through the air. As the soft flakes of snow drift by, Simon remains still and unbothered; he can appreciate a good view, and the evening air offers him that chance. Taking deep breaths, he savors the wind's chill against his skin and the scent of the air, which has started to take on a crisp note.

It's fucking freezing. You think to yourself as you step outside, feeling tipsy as you shiver against the wind's icy gust. There are specks of snow twirling downwards just in front of you, teasing you and your distaste for the weather.

Looking to your left, you spot Simon leaning against the railing as he blows out puffs of gray smoke. His signature skull balaclava is pushed past his lips, resting on his crooked nose. He seems lost in thought, yet he somehow always remains alert.

The man was large, much larger than you by far. He was slightly shy from 6'3 with an even more impressive frame. His right forearm consisted of a sleeve of tattoos in swirling black ink. His voice was deep and smoky, yet he rarely raised his voice (or let alone speak). He didn't come off as shy; he just seemed to prefer his company to others—which you could relate to. He was very aloof and a bit socially unskilled in his blunt and impolite nature, but underneath it all, you could tell he was a good man. He has this element to him that no one seemed to be able to cross, like how he was now: secluded and lost in his mind. You wondered what he could be thinking of.

A familiar scent of perfume catches his attention, and upon realizing it's you, Simon flicks his cigarette over the railing and turns his attention to you. The slight smile on his features turns into a more visible grin when he notices your intoxicated state. Simon watches you shiver as chills make their way through your body, your breath forming in front of you as you glance up at him. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he watches you momentarily before finally speaking up. "Aren't ya’ supposed t'be drinkin' inside, or did they cut ya’ off?"

Giggling, you made your way over to where he was standing, the heels of your boots clicking against the hard wooden tile. You could feel the effects of the alcohol warm your belly, leaving your brain fuzzy. Keeping a respectful distance, you stand before him, assessing him thoughtfully.

Simon was very different from many of the men you'd met, yet so stereotypical at the same time. He was mysterious, an intangible force of nature that had always piqued your curiosity. However, you never let yourself wander too close. Unlike many others, you weren't scared of the man. He was intimidating, sure, but never had you felt genuine fear in his presence. Maybe if you were one of his soldiers, or god forbid one of his enemies, you'd think differently. And yet, Simon never gave you any reason to fear him; if anything, it was safe to say you felt very protected under his watch.

You’d met under curious circumstances. Kyle Garrick, a buddy of yours, was stationed in northeast Britain while you were vacationing. After you had met at a bar to reminisce about your past, he introduced you to many of his army buddies. One of them was his Lieutenant, Simon Riley, who most of them referred to as "Ghost." He's always been some enigma, ever since the start. He always sported his typical skull balaclava, which you had yet to see him without, and only pulled up past his nose to take a swig of bourbon or smoke a cigarette.

"Just needed some air." You smiled, watching as your breath formed into wisps of condensation in the crisp, navy-blue sky.

Simon's lips curl into a smirk at the sound of your voice. "Careful there." He gently warns as you stumble, his voice still deep but with a hint of amusement. He reaches forward to steady you, only to stop just before he touches you. His eyes meet yours, and Simon feels the intensity of the moment.

"Thank you." You mumble, gazing up into his brown eyes, the top of his face hidden behind his mask.

"Aren't you cold?" You asks curiously, dipping your head to the side with a grin. Your voice had a hint of teasing mixed in with genuine concern.

Simon remains quiet for a moment before finally responding. "M’ fine." He answers coolly, turning his gaze back out into the evening sky. He leans over, the cool winter breeze brushing past his skin. His expression is genuine as he offers a gentle smile. "But you," he glances back over your shoulder at the bar, "maybe we ‘oughta get ya’ back inside."

"But it's so loud in there," you whine, leaning against the wood. "Need a minute."

The corner of Simon's lips curls up in a half-grin as he watches you. "I di'n't know ya’ can't handle yer alcohol." He murmurs, teasing once again.

"I can!" You protest with a giggle. "I'm just a bit tipsy."

"Jus’ a bit?" Simon echoes, chuckling softly to himself.

"Mmm…” you hum, half-acknowledging him. You close your eyes, embracing the moment as the cold nips at your nose. Out in the distance, a lamp post flickers off and on again, its warm yellow light blinking in contrast to the melancholic blue-and-white atmosphere.

Simon shakes his head internally, wondering when he allowed himself to babysit whining drunk girls stumbling out of bars.

He watches you for a long moment as your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward further. His face takes on a slight hint of concern for a second before he returns to his usual expressionless state. His eyes follow the lamp pole, his thoughts drifting off somewhere far from here. The world seemed to come to a standstill as he watched a million different scenarios in his head. His mind wandered between thoughts of the both of you perched like two birds in the frigid air and going your separate ways like strangers passing each other in the night.

A sudden gust of wind sends the snow swirling around the two of you again, and Simon turns towards you. His eyes take in your appearance, noticing how the cold seems to dig its icy, unforgiving claws into you. He takes in every detail, from the slope of your nose to the slight quiver in your bottom lip. He takes note of the way you huddle yourself inside your coat.

"S'bit nippy, innit’?” He asks, his voice low and warm, a welcomed ironicity. He keeps his eyes on the drifting snowfall, allowing you to meet his gaze at your own pace.

"Haven't gotten used to it yet." You admit sheepishly, grinning up at him as you burrow yourself further into the warmth of your furry coat.

Simon can't help but raise an eyebrow at this. "I take it, it's warm where yer from?" He asks in a puzzled tone, and though he's trying to keep his voice neutral, his curiosity gets the better of him.

You nod animatedly, a small smile hidden underneath the jacket.

A small laugh escapes Simon as his mouth curves into a small smile. His tongue traces along the top row of his front teeth as he watches the small grin form beneath the fur of your coat. A silent moment passes between you before he finally speaks.

“Mus’ be nice.” He murmurs, his voice still maintaining an even tone despite his body language giving way to a more keen and interested one.

You shrug your shoulders with a heave, followed by a long sigh. "Until it was summer," you mumble dramatically. "unbearable."

"So, it's either too 'ot or too cold wit’ ya’.” He observes softly, and something about the fact that he's paying so much attention to this seemingly dull conversation baffles him.

You grin, opening your eyes to gaze up at him, eyes wide and glowing. "Pretty much," you murmur, your smile toothy.

The corners of his lips curl up into a smirk as his eyes follow your mouth for a moment before shifting back to your eyes again. The grin spreads across his face, almost like a blush, as he stares back at you. His expression lightens further as your eyes meet, and it is as if he feels something stir deep inside him when he looks at you.

You breathe a short laugh through your nose, taking in his expression. "I should probably get going soon.", you acknowledge, closing your heavy eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

"Aye, prob'ly." He murmurs, still grinning. Simon's thoughts return to a thousand scenarios as his eyes travel around you momentarily. There's no doubt that he feels something soft make its way inside him, something he hasn't felt in a while. He shifts his weight, his body leaning against the wooden railing as he turns his head toward the bar again, letting out a slow breath.

"Think you could give me a ride?" you ask, leaning into his personal space.

His expression shifts quickly, his heart racing at your playful suggestion. He clears his throat before glancing back at you, his face momentarily caught off guard by your closeness. His eyes meet yours, and he can't help but feel a tingling sensation throughout his body. It's almost as if his body is slowly reacting to yours, the chemistry of a connection.

"Aye, dun't see why not,” he murmurs, his tone shifting slightly more severe with his agreement.

"Thanks! You're the best." You shoot him a playful wink before turning back to look out towards the flickering lamppost, yet refuse to put the space back between you.

"Hmph..." Simon's voice comes out with a tinge of a teasing hilt, and he feels just the right amount of comfort with this closeness between you. Another gust of wind rushes by, sending snowflakes into the air again; he watches as they make a home on your head and shoulders.

"Come on, yer gonna freeze out here." He murmurs, not wanting to let you linger in the frigid cold much longer. He finally shifts his weight off the rail and paces towards the parking lot.

Reluctantly, you push yourself away from the rail to follow closely behind him. "I think I'm starting to get used to it now." You chirp from behind him, not even attempting to keep up.

“Us'd to what?” He forgets about your pointless conversation as he turns back, watching you and laughing softly at the image of your shorter legs struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“The cold,” you answer, humming to yourself. Your eyes stay closed as you stuff your hands into your coat pockets.

The parking lot is a short distance away, and Simon's steps slow as you approach his truck. He opens up the passenger side door for you, waving you over.

You giggle, strolling towards him with an attempt at grace. "Thank you, Lieutenant." you grin, saluting him with the wrong hand before clambering inside.

He shuts the door with an unimpressed shake of his head.

“You smoke?” Ghost asks, offering you the cigarette between his fingers.

“Not those cancer sticks.” You turn your nose up in disgust, not caring if you offended him. To your surprise, he shrugs before placing it between his lips.

He smirked as the cigarette hung from his mouth, not seeming to mind your aversion towards them. You’ve always been straightforward, preferring to precisely say what you’re feeling or thinking rather than hiding it behind politeness or social conventions. He knows that your tendency to be so direct can sometimes rub people the wrong way. But this is just one of the many things he finds refreshing about you. He leans back against the wall with a sigh and slightly glances at you before saying, “Does it botha’ y’ then?” He mumbles in between a drag.

You take a moment to consider his words before shaking your head. "No, not really. You're a grown man; you can do whatever you want." You shrug, appreciating how he turns his head away from you to blow the smoke from his nose.

"Mmhm..." he mutters, nodding in understanding but looking you over when you aren’t paying attention to him. Your relaxed attitude appeals to him, and he grows more comfortable around you.

He watches, his eyes drifting up and down your body as he takes in your appearance, his gaze landing on your exposed neck. It's a rather tempting sight, as the smooth skin of your throat is only made more attractive by how you lean forward while talking. He watches you intently as you form words with your mouth; your accent, which he used to find unusual, now strikes a chord within him—a voice he can only describe as heavenly.

"Ghost?" You ask, turning to look up at him. Confusion is written on your face when he stays silent after you ask him a question.

He snaps out of his reverie, his body twitching as he realizes you’re now looking at him. A slight smirk flashes across his face as he sees the perplexed expression on your face, as he had been so caught up in his admiration of you that Simon hadn't even realized he was supposed to be paying attention. "Sorry, luv," he says softly, his voice slightly teasing as he maintains his gaze on you. "Wot were ya’ sayin’?"

“Here, try some o' this.” Commands John, otherwise known as “Soap,” as he slides you a glass of tequila. For the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to consist of Kyle’s task force forcing you to try their taste in alcoholic beverages. A vodka-lime wasn’t impressive according to their standards.

“Why do I have to try out every single one of your stupid ‘manly’ drinks?” You grumbled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol as you took a quick sip of his drink.

“Is tha' tequila?” Ghost scoffs as he appears in your peripheral vision, causing you to cough and sputter in surprise.

“Why do you always do that?” You complain, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips as John laughs at your misfortune.

Ghost’s eyes widen in what either looks to be humor or surprise—probably both.

“Gettin’ the lass tae expand her horizons,” John explains after collecting himself.

“You sound like an alcoholic,” you mumble, your face warm in embarrassment.

“Why tequila?” Ghost interrupts, still seemingly confused by John’s choice of beverage.

“Whae naht?” The scot shrugs, taking a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows. You glance back and forth between the two men, trying to decipher their unspoken conversation.

“Ya,’ tryna kill her, mate?” Ghost snorts in sarcasm, sitting beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he makes himself comfortable. He doesn’t even glance in your direction, but John’s eyes flicker back and forth between you two knowingly. You hide your shame behind another long sip.

“Are you?” You mutter, staring out the window as silence fills the air.

“Wot?”

John’s laugh rings loud as your face sets up in a blaze.

“Do you like it?” You inquire with anticipation, watching him take a bite of the cultural dish you had made for him to try. You asked him to stop by your temporary place so you could cook him something other than British cuisine. He seemed a bit irked but agreed nonetheless.

“S’ alright.” He mumbles after swallowing, refusing to meet your eyes as he takes another bite.

“You like it, c’mon.” You giggle, poking his bicep, which he swats away, simultaneously shooting you an annoyed glare.

“I said it’s alright.” He reaffirms, chewing slowly. “S’ a bit spicy.” He comments in a neutral tone, but you assume it was supposed to be his form of constructional criticism.

“Yeah, well, everything is spicy to you people.”

He rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh.

“You could’ve just said ‘thank you.’” You sass, hands on your hips.

“I’d 'ave t'be thankful for it first.”

You swat him in the arm this time. He chuckles in response.

Simon grunts as he slams his fist into the black fabric of the boxing bag. The thick material of his gloves protects his fists, but he can almost picture the bruises and cuts decorating his knuckles as he bashes the face in of that smug-looking private.

Simon had nothing against the man—personally speaking anyway—yet he still couldn’t get over how he looked at you. How he danced with you, twirling you around like some bloke, tripping over his feet and his words to impress you.

And you just smiled and laughed, batting your pretty eyes up at him with a sweet smile—the same way you do with Simon.

Simon furrows his eyebrows, pulling his face into a deep frown. He clenches his fists a little tighter as the images of the man dancing with you and making a fool of himself flash through his mind. Simon can also clearly see how you responded to his advances in those images: your saccharine smiles and bashful glances, your symphony of laughs that could bring a choir of angels to shame. He grits his teeth and raises his fist to strike the bag again; his jealousy is getting the better of him.

The more he seethes, the more those memories twist into something else entirely. He can't help but imagine the way the man must have touched you, maybe even kissing you or pulling you into his arms—holding you close. The thought of that makes him even more furious, as he's now thinking about him putting his hands on you in a way that only he is supposed to—or would if only he just asked.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side as you sit across from Simon in a booth, enjoying the meal he had gotten for you both.

He stops eating for a moment, his busy thoughts halting a little as he hears your voice hit his ears, concerned with a hint of indignation. He hesitates for a second before answering you, not wanting to admit that he's felt a little insecure about his relationship with you. "Nothin’," he gruffs softly, forcing disinterest as he looks at you. "Why?”

You run your tongue over your front teeth as you assess him before looking past his shoulder in thought.

"Is it because I have to leave soon?" You ask softly, deciding to poke at your food with your fork to remain casual.

The mention of your departure only makes his frustration grow even worse, as the thought of you not being here with him brings forth an uncomfortable hollow feeling deep in his chest. "No," he mutters softly, but his response carries a hint of irritation because he believes you have seen through him too quickly. "I jus’...'ave some things on my mind."

He stares at you silently for a moment before looking away and grunting. He can't help but feel slightly guilty for not wanting to be honest with you. Especially when he knows you’ve always been upfront with him, and now he's keeping secrets from you even though there's no real reason for him to. The guilt compels him to consider admitting a little more, but he realizes that doing so would mean ripping back the layers he’s built up around himself for so long. So instead, he says, "It's nowt important."

"Then stop acting so weird."

You sigh, swallowing your frustration. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me." You promise with an empathetic smile.

He sighs and looks away again, feeling even more shameful now that he has to look into your pitful expression after lying straight to it. Simon has been so busy hiding his insecurities that he's lost track of how he’s been treating you, and now Simon realizes that he needs to open up, or else you’ll probably start feeling as if he's abandoning you. "Yeah..." he mutters, shaking his head slightly in disappointment with himself. "I know, m'sorry...I'll be fine."

You soak in the awkward, silent tension for a few more moments, trying to make peace with it.

"Y'know..." you begin tapping his leg under the table with your foot to get his attention. "I'm gonna miss you too." You confess with a bittersweet smile.

His expression softens just a bit, his gaze shifts to make eye contact with you for the first time in a while, and upon seeing your sweet and somewhat sad smile, his discomfort shifts towards a bittersweet tenderness rather than the frustration and resentment he felt before.

"Y'will?" he asks softly, a small smile forming on his lips as he looks away almost immediately, his heart now fluttering at the thought of someone as kind and gentle as you, missing someone as cruel and fucked up as him.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, your eyelids lowering as you admire him with a strange fondness. “But I’m glad—I’m happy I got to meet you, to miss you.” You smile, abandoning your attention on everything else and redirecting it towards him.

“I’d rather miss you every day than not have gotten to meet you at all.”

NEXT → main masterlist, rules

Can We Stay Awhile? ♡ Simon “Ghost” Riley

summary: a heartfelt farewell between Simon and you, where your unspoken emotions and a tender embrace define your parting; despite promises to keep in touch, you part with unexpressed feelings and missed opportunities. tags/trigger warnings: sfw, f!reader, emotional goodbye, sadness/heartache, longing and separation, maybe unrequited love, tis’ sad wc: 2.2k

pt.1 ･ pt. 2 ･ pt.3

“You didn’t have to do this for me, y’know…” You gaze idly out the window, the outside world zipping past in a glaucous haze.

“I know,” he answers, his voice one could describe as only tristful. You smile softly, watching him as he shifts uncomfortably underneath your stare.

So why are you? You wanted to ask, yet held your tongue so as not to ruin the peaceful mood by forcing him into a confession. Sometimes, you wonder if pushing him will bring him closer or turn him away. You knew he was a tough nut to crack, and so were you; opening up took time, but time was running thin.

Darkness covered the outside world, with only the faintest hint of the sun's early light slipping through the morning mist that gently clung to your window—a somber, overcast blanket draped over the sky, a common sight in this country. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel it somehow mirrored the escalating tension in the air.

You were finally leaving.

Simon was the first to offer to drive you to the airport, despite knowing that you had to leave early in the morning. His constant willingness to go out of his way for you always stood out. Even when you tried to decline his offer, he insisted on being there for you. Simon wasn't the type to be openly affectionate, so you perceived his actions as expressing his care and concern for you.

And yet, he hadn’t spoken a word until now, only answering in grunts or shakes of his head. You could tell just by a glance that he was hurt even if his face remained stoic and his body motionless.

"We'll keep in touch," you assured, your words tinged with empathy. However, Simon's frustration only intensified.

As you stared at him, hoping for a response, you couldn't help but admire his striking features. You recalled the moment when he took off his mask in front of you for the first time, and how his satisfied smile lit up his face as he saw your reaction. "And I promise to find the time to come and see you," you whispered, feeling a little disheartened by his silence.

“Mhm,” he grunted, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

“I don’t get it,” you huff, your eyes narrowing in irritation. “You travel for work all the time.”

“M’ not upset.” He sighs, never taking his eyes off the road ahead. “Not wit’ you, anyway.”

“Oh,” you say rather dumbly, slumping back into your seat. “Then, why—”

“I just…” he sighs again; a moment passes as he attempts to turn his thoughts into words. “Do I have tuh say it? Ya know how I feel about ya’.” The resignation in his voice was palpable as if he was waving up a white flag in surrender.

“I know,” you sympathize, feeling the total weight of what’s to come. “I’m sorry, Simon, I–”

“Dun’t apologize,” he cuts you off abruptly. He clears his throat before softening his tone. “S’not yer fault, love.”

“I know, I just wish that…” You close your mouth, struggling to find the right words. “I wish we got to spend more time together, that’s all.”

“Aye,” he swallows, jerking his head in a nodding motion. “Me too.”

He couldn't quite explain the thoughts and feelings swirling around in his head. It was a flurry of emotions. Simon wasn't good at them and never had been. He could handle a gun better than expressing his feelings, but you were different. Everything was different with you.

Silence again dominates the scene, leaving an air of melancholy and awkwardness. You turn the music dial to drown it out, and he silently thanks you. For once, he is content with not speaking. He doesn’t want to fight or argue. He wants to savor his limited time, even though it does little to soothe the ache in his chest.

Watching the front of the airport come into view, you struggled to express your gratitude. "Thanks for driving me," you finally managed to say, the words stuck in your throat as if they were hesitant to leave.

“Don’t mention it…” He trailed off weakly, feeling a mix of disappointment and frustration welling up inside of him. The airport grew closer and closer, the white concrete building standing out in the darkness like a beacon.

Simon pulled his vehicle into the drop-off lane, his grip on the steering wheel tight and strained. The engine hummed to a halt as the car stopped, but neither of you had yet to exit.

“I have to go now,” you said, looking at him, eyes wide and searching his face for a reaction. “I’ll miss you.”

His eyes met yours, and you saw so many emotions flicker within his gaze: sadness, anger, and something else that bordered on resignation. “Yeah… me too.” He muttered gruffly, trying to keep his emotions under control.

A beat of silence passed between you both, the air heavy with unsaid words and unexpressed feelings. “Be safe,” Simon finally spoke again, his tone curt and somewhat hoarse.

“I’ll try,” you quipped, reaching for even the tiniest crumb of humor, your lips quivering into a small smile, yet your eyes betrayed you, your face remained atrabilious.

His lips twitched involuntarily, almost mirroring the hint of a smile. “Don’t try,” he said, his voice tinged with wryness. “Ya’ know how I worry ‘bout ya.”

Simon knew that you were trying to lighten the mood and shield him from your emotions, as well as protecting yourself. However, he saw through your brave facade and could see the sadness in your eyes despite your forced smile.

“I know,” you grinned, huffing a short breath of laughter. “But I’ll update you; tell you what I’m doing and where I’m going.” You reassured, fighting back the urge to hold his hand. “I’ll come back, I promise.” You repeated, more serious this time.

His gaze softened a hint, a flicker of vulnerability passing over his rugged features. “Y’better,” he grumbled, the hint of teasing in his voice belied by a hint of desperation.

Simon leaned back in his seat, taking a moment to look at you, at how your hair frames your face, the slight tremble in your lip, and the shine in your eyes.

“I’ll be waitin’ for ya’,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Just… take care of yourself, arright?”

“I will,” you nod, your gaze finding his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. You shoot him one final smile before opening the passenger door and stepping outside.

You wait outside for Simon to open his trunk and collect your suitcases. The weather has warmed, but the brumous winds haven’t lost their bite.

He silently steps out, closing the driver's door before going to the back, opening the trunk, and unloading your suitcases. His movements are mechanical, his mind preoccupied with the idea that you’ll be gone soon.

As Simon silently loads the suitcases into your waiting hands, his gaze shifts back and forth to the airport entrance. The soft morning sun begins to emerge, casting a warm glow on your face, and Simon feels a pang of longing in his heart as he takes in the sight.

“Goodbye, Simon.” Your lip wobbles as you reach to hold him by his face, leaning forward and placing a chaste peck on his cheek.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” you whispered as you pulled away, holding up your heavy luggage with a grunt. “Thanks for everything.” You bit your lip, choking back your tears as they warmed your eyes.

He struggled to swallow, feeling the constriction in his throat as he bid you farewell. He couldn't move, feeling rooted to the ground for a brief moment. His muscles tensed like coiled springs as a swarm of thoughts invaded his mind, gripping him in a vice of unease.

He suddenly reached out as you were about to turn away, gently grabbing your wrist. “Wait,”

He pulled you back to him, his other hand moving to the nape of your neck as he enveloped you in a fierce embrace. He pressed you against him, his arms wrapping around you tightly, desperate and protective.

Simon buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. Pressure built in his chest, and the dam started to crack for the first time in a while.

You were left speechless by his spontaneous act of affection, your body frozen still in shock before you let go of your bags, uncaring how they fell as you threw your arms around his shoulders, smushing your cheek into his shoulder as your feet lifted from the ground. You squeezed him tightly, his skin dampening as you silently cried.

Simon's fingertips grasped the fabric of your shirt, clinging tightly to his grip on you, verging on possessiveness as his body slightly quivered while he rested his chin against the top of your head.

He was engulfed in a wistful trance, feeling like a mighty tide was pulling him under. However, amidst it all, a profound and overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over him at the mere thought of your departure.

Reluctantly, you slowly released your tight hold on him, allowing your toes to barely touch the solid ground. His arms still wrapped around your lower back as your hand came to rest upon his chest. You giggled, delicately dabbing away the moisture underneath your eyes, followed by a wet sniffle.

His intense gaze locked firmly on yours, carefully examining the contours of your face. He observed the gentle flutter of your eyelashes as you tried to blink away your tears and noticed how your lips slightly parted as if they had a thousand and one unspoken words waiting to be said. Your faces were so close that your noses almost touched, the warmth of your breath mingling in the small space between you.

He longed to bridge the gap between you, to take your face in his hands and claim your lips fervently. Instead, he settled to rest his forehead against yours in a silent display of affection.

“Off with you,” he whispered, pulling away with a tight-lipped smile.

With a sense of hesitation, he slowly withdrew his hands from your body, and the lingering sensation of his touch left behind a profound and tangible sense of emptiness. He wanted to say so many things. Stay, don’t go. I’m a fool. I’m in love, and I’m scared. But none of them escaped his lips.

Instead, all he said was, “Give me a ring when ya’ land, arrite?”

"Of course," you whispered back hoarsely, your voice barely audible above the ambient noise. You nodded slowly before letting your heels touch back to the concrete with a sharp click, its sound echoing through the bustling street.

As you turned to leave, with his help, you gathered your belongings. You expressed a gentle and definitive thank you before pivoting away, leaving him in the background as you walked towards the front. Before entering, you looked back, offering a slightly awkward wave as a final goodbye.

He remained still beside the car, observing as the space between you widened with each stride. Folding his arms across his chest, he took several deep breaths to control himself. With a feeble wave, he leaned against the car, his emotions hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of stoicism.

His eyes remained fixated on the door through which you disappeared as if expecting you to come walking back at any moment. However, reality soon sank in, and he knew he had to accept that you were gone. Still, he lingered for a few moments longer, his mind replaying the scene repeatedly.

He tightly pressed his lips together, grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw, battling the tumultuous thoughts that were tearing him apart from the inside.

Eventually, he pushed himself away from the car before returning inside.

As he fumbled with the controls, attempting to resume the music to fill the void of silence, he became aware that your Bluetooth had disconnected. Agitated, he swallowed hard and swiftly shifted the car into drive, eager to return home.

The drive back seemed to stretch endlessly, with a profound silence suffocating him. Not one stray thought crossed his mind as he drove, his entire concentration fixed on the road ahead. The sky gradually shifted from a foggy blue to a soft glow, the gradual light of dawn revealing a world emerging from its slumber.

As you settled into your seat and the airplane ascended into the sky, you gazed out of the vacant window, observing the somber clouds gliding past. You pressed the heel of your palm against your quivering lips, struggling to contain the wrecked sob welling up inside you.

Throughout the flight, you only wanted to turn your brain off, sleep away from this mess, and pretend it didn't happen. Simon was just a man who made your time a little more worthwhile; it was simply an enjoyable experience and nothing more.

As soon as you stepped off the plane, however, you felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and hear his voice. You couldn't deny your deep longing for him despite trying to maintain your composure and pride. How much you missed him was almost painful, especially considering you had never established an official relationship. Yet you were caught up in tears over someone who had never been yours.

A sense of desperation washed over you as you reached for the phone. You dialed the number Simon had left, anticipation building as the phone rang once, twice, and again. Your hope dwindled with each unanswered ring as he failed to pick up. He never answered. And he never called you back.

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A Little Blood Never Hurt Nobody ✦ ︎John “Soap” MacTavish

Kinktober Day VI: Period Sex

summary: the best boyfriend in the world relieves you of your pain tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, period sex, vagina blood, john being the sweetest gentleman, fluff, soft sex, p in v, pet names, praise, author tries really hard at accents wc: 2k a/n: not me being on my period rn

MASTERLIST

You settled into the cozy embrace of your makeshift cocoon, surrounded by layers of warmth - a plush comforter and soft blankets enveloping your body. Nestled within this comforting sanctuary, you applied a heating pad to your stomach, its gentle warmth soothing the persistent discomfort caused by the pinching of your uterus. A full bottle of water stood within easy reach on your nightstand. Despite the discomfort, you found solace in the carefully prepared comforts that eased the pain sensation, allowing you to find a semblance of relief within the embrace of your bedding.

All you need is your man, the one you were missing dearly.

John had went to the store to buy you some supplies: enough pads and tampons for the week and a list of your favorite snacks so you won't get hangry.

As you lay in bed, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from closing, you were jolted awake by the distinct sound of the front door clicking shut. The rustling of plastic bags filled the air, growing louder as the footsteps approached the door to your room.

“Ay, sweet bonnie,” he says as he enters the room. He greets you with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up as he steps closer. He carefully places the bags on your bed, the weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. You slowly peek out from underneath your cozy bedding, feeling curious and excited as you glance from the bags to his face.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting up, digging through the grocery bags, pulling out the treats waiting inside. You heard John laugh, taking the boxes of feminine products in his arms. Never mind a week; these will last you months.

“Anythin’ fer ye’” he winked, adoring you with his loving gaze.

“Ah’ll go stash these aweay,” he ducks into the bathroom, boxes in hand. Your eyes were glued to his large biceps, each covered in intricate tattoos running up and down his muscular arms. You bit your lip as your gaze traveled lower, noting the plush roundness of his ass and the thick hardness of his thighs.

“John?” You called out, setting the bag of snacks to the side. He called back, the sound of boxes knocking around before the swift sound of a cupboard closing followed.

"Can you come here?" You asked, your fingers gently grasping the edges of the soft sheets. Obediently, he reappeared in the doorway, his eyes meeting yours with an expectant gaze. "Need somethin’ else, princess?" he teased playfully, his tone warm and affectionate. You knew he would go to any lengths to fulfill your requests, whether big or small. His willingness to please you was evident in every gesture and word.

"Yes," you respond quietly, meeting his piercing gaze with apprehension and anticipation. You hope that he'll understand your unspoken message. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he crosses his arms, his icy eyes never leaving yours. His gaze briefly flickers to your concealed body before he takes a silent step forward, his presence looming over you from the edge of the bed.

“Ye gonnae tell me, or am I gonnae have tah figure it out?”

"Please, John," you pleaded, your heart racing as you reached out for him, your small fingers sliding against his warm, calloused digits, urging him to come closer. John hesitated momentarily, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, before finally complying with a mix of a weary sigh and a grunt. He shifted in front of you, his muscular frame towering over you, and with a gentle yet firm touch, he peeled back the soft comforter as he settled in facing you.

“Only because ye look so desperate.” he chuckled, taking the heating pad and tossing it to the side, replacing it with his hands. His touch caressed and massaged your lower stomach, pulling an airy sigh from your chest. After a few moments, he slipped them up higher, pulling your thin tank top from your body and tossing it to the floor.

His hands cupped your tender, swollen breasts, gently squeezing them as he sighed; his gaze zeroed on your body with a burning lust as he kneaded the soft, doughy flesh of your chest. You let out a soft whine, your body sinking further into the mattress, enjoying the feel of John’s large, warm hands pawing at your pliant body.

“Gorgeous girl,” he purred, his fingers dipping into the seam of your shorts before slipping them off your legs, leaving you fully nude in front of him.

“Gonnae make ye feel all better,” he promised, reaching behind his back to tug his shirt over his head, showcasing his thick and hairy chest trailing down his hard muscles and into his jeans. He tugs off his belt before sitting to the side to shuck off his pants, followed by his briefs.

“I love you,” you whispered as he crawled back over you, bracketing you with his thick arms. He grinned down at you, his smile toothy and his eyes crinkling.

“I love ye too, sweet girl,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before descending to your lips, groaning into your mouth as his hand pumped his growing erection, preparing himself to enter you.

You looked down, moaning as you watched him jerk himself off. As he slowly pumped closer to his tip, you licked your lips as pre dribbled from his slit, sliding down towards his fingers. You reached outwards, wrapping your hand around him, your fingers barely touching with how thick he was. Collecting his pre cum in your digits, you swiped them down his cock, coating his cock in his slippery essence for a smoother glide.

He grunted above you, his eyes narrowing as his lips parted, moaning from your soft touch. You squeezed his base, guiding him towards your bleeding hole, pulsing with desire.

The moment his tip caught against your entrance, John was pushing his hips forward, his cock sliding inside, filling you up completely with little to no resistance.

“Steamin’ Jesus, yer so tight!” John hissed, his hands wrapping around your middle, burying his face in your neck as he pushed his hips forward. His dog tags clinked as they pressed against your chest, the cool metal causing you to shiver.

You whimpered as his hips pulled back before pressing back in. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but if his loud noises were anything to go by, you knew he wanted to pummel you into next week. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping your nails into his back as he picked up a steady rhythm, his deep strokes punching the air from your lungs.

John leaned up on his hands, his chain dangling in front of you as his blue eyes stared down into yours. One hand curled over the headboard as the other planted against your lower back, arching your hips closer to his thrusting cock.

“Fuck, ye feel so damn good,” he moaned, more words of praise spilling from his mouth as he pounded you into the bed, his fingers trailing toward your pussy before reaching underneath your hood and rubbing circles onto your clit.

You glanced downwards at your combined bodies; eyes glazed over as his cock pulled out before sinking back in, coated in a mixture of your blood and arousal, creating a thick and slimy texture that stuck to your thighs.

“John,” you whimpered, mouth falling open as your cunt clenched around him at the sight, his thumb rubbing faster at your sensitive nub as his pace quickened. You tossed your head back, hands reaching behind you to grasp onto the pillow underneath your head, eyes squeezing shut as you moaned uncontrollably.

“I ken, I ken,” he grunted, his pace faltering slightly, hips stuttering as his cock twitched hard inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over with each involuntary jump.

You were so much more sensitive than usual, not just your quivery pussy but your body as well; each touch and simple caress of his rough hands felt like they were melting away your skin, their heat licking fire into your veins, causing your head to spin and your limbs to tremble.

“M’gonna cum!” you wailed, crying out as John lifted your hips higher, his cock slamming even deeper inside you, barely pulling out as your greedy pussy clamped around him as if it couldn't bare the thought of him leaving you like it had a consciousness of its own.

“Me too, fuck!” He whimpered, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your waist, tugging you down onto his prick with every forceful thrust of his hips.

With one final thrust, you felt his warm cum spurt inside of you, rope after rope, as John’s slow grinds triggered your release; you both moaned in unison, clutching onto each other for dear life as you both rode out your highs together, debauched sounds of pleasure filling the confined space of your bedroom.

As John pulled out of you, a pink mixture of your combined fluids leaked out of you, paused by John’s thumb as he pushed it back in, groaning at the sight of your stretched hole spreading wider to accept him.

"Feel better?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless as a proud smile spread across his face. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath as he looked down at you, studying your expression for any signs of discomfort.

You smiled a lazy, contented smile, your eyes barely peeking open to look up at him. A warm, post-sex glow illuminated your face as you nodded slowly, still trying to catch your breath.

He leaned down, pressing a hard and wet smooch to your stomach before pulling back to kiss your clit, sucking it into his mouth with short flicks of his tongue.

“John!” you whimpered, tugging him away by his hair. He let out a loud bark of laughter, slapping the side of your thigh before reluctantly pulling away. “Jus’ showin’ her some extra love,” he winked before laying beside you and pulling you into his chest.

“Wan’ me teh run ye’ a bath?” he asked, nosing his face against your cheek before kissing your temple. You nodded before burying your face into his chest, letting out a deep sigh as you closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you.

You were awakened when you felt arms scoop underneath you, gently carrying you into the washroom.

“Sorry, I had teh wake ye.’” you looked up at John’s face as he settled you into the warm water, bottles of bath oils, and a bag of bath salts sitting on the side.

He settled in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into his chest, resting his head over your head. You could feel his cock begin to harden behind you before his mouth began pressing messy kisses against your shoulder.

You looked behind you, meeting his lips with a slow yet passionate kiss of your own before turning around to face him, before reaching behind you to grab his cock. His hands traveled up your waist as you sat down, his cock slipping back inside you, pushing his cum back into your body.

You slumped against him, pressing your cheek against his chest as you warmed his cock. Closing your eyes again with another pleasure-filled sigh, you buried your nose into his neck, relishing his gentle touch as his hands massaged your back. John watched you with a loving smile, kissing your head as you fell back asleep in his embrace. He knew he would take good care of you—just like he always did.

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this blog explores mature themes, and while i strive to avoid extreme graphic content, please be mindful of any potentially triggering material that may be flagged in the warnings and tags of my writing. if you notice a lack of a potentially triggering tag in any post, i would greatly appreciate it if you could bring it to my attention.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 open!

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 & 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

ᰔ this blog is for adults 18+ only. minors do not interact! if you're an adult, display your age on your blog before interacting with me and my work.

ᰔ if you interact with me and your age or an age indicator is not readily visible on your blog, i will block you!

ᰔ i am currently open to requests, so if you have any ideas or prompts you'd like to share, please feel free to send them my way. your input is truly valued and appreciated!

ᰔ while i am open to receiving requests, please understand that i am selective about the ones i choose to write. i reserve the right to decline any prompt, regardless of the reason. i appreciate your understanding.

ᰔ it's essential to remember that it may take me up to a week or more to respond to a request, especially if it's long. i will try to reply to all the messages i receive and genuinely value each interaction. however, as one person with other commitments, i find it difficult to respond to everyone. nonetheless, i will do my best!

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

ᰔ please be aware that this blog may contain spoilers. while my content often focuses on side stories, i still want to provide this warning as a precaution.

ᰔ i want to let you know that i write exclusively for female readers because it's the perspective that i feel most comfortable and confident writing for. it's important to me to portray the reader as i see myself, and all my writing is very personal to me. i also want to mention that my work may reflect some of my own experiences with mental health, including diagnoses such as autism, adhd, ocd, anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder.

ᰔ i want to emphasize that the reader is generally very feminine. i am not a stereotypical 'badass' person, and i am very girlish despite being considered nonbinary. if any of this doesn't resonate with your preferences or makes you feel uncomfortable, that's okay! it just means that my writing might not be the best fit for you, and that's completely fine.

ᰔ i kindly request that you refrain from creating spin-offs, fan fiction, or other works set within the universe of my stories or alternate universes. if you're uncertain about what qualifies as a spin-off as opposed to mere inspiration, please feel free to ask for clarification. thank you!

ᰔ © all work and content posted are the property of narciticv3nus 2024. It is strictly prohibited to alter or repost them under any circumstances. do not replicate or assert them as your own. refrain from endorsing my work on tiktok, wattpad, ao3, or any other social media platform. additionally, do not utilize my work for asmr purposes.

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫:

fluff, smut, angst, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, established relationship, hurt/comfort, different aus, dom! & sub! characters, soft & rough smut, usage of drugs and alcohol, degradation & praise, legal and morally correct age difference, loss of virginity, dumbification, condescension, hybrids, a/b/o, threesomes, poly relationships, dacryphilia, edging, and more

ᰔ your online experience is crucial to your safety and happiness. please remember to care for yourself and block any content or users (including myself) that may harm you. your well-being is essential, and it is okay to prioritize it.

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫:

mommy/daddy kink, ddlg relationship dynamics, age play, nonconsensual somnophilia, toxic relationships, hard drugs or addiction, full blood incest nor pseudo-incest (step-cest), yandere behavior, noncon/dubcon, orgies, watersports, vomit, scat, pegging, ass eating, anal, pedophilia, underage, parents/parenthood, pet play, lactation, eating disorders, character x character ships, vore, bestiality, necrophilia, feet fetishes, etc

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫:

ᰔ the characters highlighted in bold are the ones i will write for the most because they are my favorites!

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲

simon "ghost" riley, john "bravo six" price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, könig, keegan p russ, kim "horangi" hong-jin, sebastian kruegar, logan walker, hesh walker

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧

higuruma hiromi, choso, nanami kento

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈

arthur morgan

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬

#venus speaks ᰔ just me talking to myself

#venus gets mail ᰔ any ask that i answer

#letters to venus ᰔ any lengthy ask

#tw venus overshares ᰔ posts that involve oversharing about my life, often related to sexual topics, as well as concerns regarding mental health and trauma

#life on venus ᰔ posts updating about my life and what i’m currently up to

#venus.anon ᰔ any anon that is not a part of the anon club

#[name].anon | #[emoji].anon ᰔ any anons that are a part of the anon club

#venus.queue ᰔ posts i have queued

#venus.[series] ᰔ posts that pertain to a specific anime or video game (for example, venus.cod, venus.jjk, venus.rdr2)

#venus.[character] ᰔ posts that pertain to a specific character (ex: venus.ghost or venus.arthur, etc.)

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬

#venus reads ᰔ any piece of work i reblog that's not written by me

#v3nus.[series] ᰔ reblogged art + gifs + photos of a specific character/series (ex: v3nus.cod, v3nus.jjk, or v3nus.rdr2.)

⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬

the topics commonly discussed on my blog encompass various triggering subjects, including but not limited to:

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

ᰔ bondage ･ #tw:bondage

ᰔ cuckolding and voyeurism ･ #tw:cuckolding, #tw:voyeurism

ᰔ cum play ･ #tw:cumplay

ᰔ dacryphilia ･ #tw:dacryphillia

ᰔ degradation/dumbification ･#tw:degradation, #tw:dumbification

ᰔ exhibitionism ･ #tw:exhibitionism

ᰔ marking (bruises, hickeys, scratches, bites) ･#tw:marking

ᰔ size kink/size difference ･ #tw:size kink

ᰔ somnophilia ･ #tw:somnophillia

ᰔ rough sex ･ #tw:rough sex

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

ᰔ age gaps between consenting adults ･ #tw:age gap

ᰔ blood/gore ･ #tw:blood, #tw:gore

ᰔ dom/sub dynamics ･ #tw:dom![character], #tw:sub![character]

ᰔ drugs/alcohol ･ #tw:drugs, #tw:alcohol

ᰔ mental illness ･ #tw:mental illness

ᰔ murder ･ #tw:murder

ᰔ nsfw/18+ ･ #tw:nsfw

if any of the abovementioned topics make you feel uneasy or distressed, please feel free to utilize the tag filters or block feature. your safety and comfort are essential, and it is up to you to manage your online environment and experience. take care.

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